


Petals

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 14:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Celebrating International Friendship Day, Mulder and Scully style.





	Petals

There are petals strewn over the desk, soft pink piles, creamy-white ones, blood red velvet too. They are scattered over the floor, the shelving, the chair. She follows the trail out of the office and up the stairs where the petals decorate each step, gathered in the corners, where they rest on the landing and the hand rail post, where they lead her to the bedroom. The dresser, the closet, the lounge chair, the window sill, the covers, the pillows, rose petals cover the surface. She sinks to the bed and scoops up a handful, breathing in the delicate perfume.

“Hey,” he says, opening the bathroom door, wearing a smile that speaks of a thousand ways he loves her and a thousand more ways he’ll find to love her.

“Hey,” she says back, letting the petals flutter around her. He’s naked save for a towel around his waist and she looks at the definition of his abs and thinks about 25 years of growth. His body is a work of art these days, not just because of his age now, but because he’s sculpted those grooves through hard-work and pain, she’s admiring those shadows because of his sheer determination, she can run her eyes over those lines that narrow towards his pelvis because he put the past away.

“See anything you like, Scully?” he asks, sinking on to the bed next to her, towel slipping open so that tufts of dark hair peek out.

“Thousands of petals, Mulder. I like those.”

As she unbuttons her blouse, his smile grows exponentially. “You like those?”

“Mmhmm, they’re pretty.”

“Like you,” he says, resting his thumb and forefinger around her neck, where her necklace lies. “So pretty.” He leans in to kiss her.

“What’s got into you?” she says, reluctant to pull away. His cock nudges against her thigh but there’s a skirt in the way and she needs to feel his skin on hers.

“Do you know how many roses it took, Scully?”

They’re lying down now, facing each other and she’s tracing the shape of a rose on his chest. He’s unhitching her blouse and waiting for her to guess. She’ll be wildly wrong, she knows, but this is part of the game.

“I don’t know, Mulder.”

“Guess,” he says, slipping her shoulders free. “For me.” He kisses the rounded bone and her nipples tighten.

“300, 312.”

“Cold,” he says, kissing along her claivicle.

“427.”

“Warmer.” His lips trail south and she unzips her skirt, wriggling it off her hips.

“582.”

“Warmer.” His palm flattens on her tummy and she opens looks at her skin, softer now, silvery threads across her abdomen. The warm pressure of Mulder’s hand there takes away the pain of those memories and she lets him kiss each breast, licking, nibbling. “Guess again.”

“300,” she says, arching her neck. She doesn’t want to be right. He chuckles and there’s a light scratching from his bristled chin. She plucks some petals from the sheet and sprinkles them over him as he laughs. “666.”

He springs up and over her on all fours, a devilish grin on his lips. “Hotter,” he rasps. His tongue snakes a path down from her belly button to the line of her panties.

“750,” she whispers as he thumbs them off and she lifts herself to help him.

“Scorching,” he says before burying his tongue into her, where she’s gone from cool to hot in the space of a few seconds. His chin works her, his nose presses her clit, his lips spread hers. She rocks and bucks and tears petals between her fingers, releasing their perfume.

Coming down takes a while and he’s always loved to watch her mellow out. He’s propped on his elbow, cock still rigid, just biding his time because that how he is.

“790 roses with an average of 12 petals makes 9480,” he says, grasping his cock and stroking himself. She likes to watch him do this, loves the way his breathing changes, his face sets, his eyes half-close.

“What’s significant about 9480, Mulder?” She closes the gap between them, pressing her breasts against his chest and slipping her hand between them, closing a fist over his cock.

“That’s nearly how many days we’ve known each other, Scully.” His voice hitches as she speeds up her action. “Twenty-six years next month and you’re still my best friend.” Face buried in her neck, he groans.

“You bought nearly 800 roses to tell me we’re just good friends?”

“It’s International Friendship Day,” he says, sucking on the skin between her neck and shoulder as she works him faster. “I thought it was a nice gesture.”

She can’t help but laugh but as she does, she pushes him on to his back and climbs across him, sliding down in one smooth motion. Her hands are covered in petals and there are pink and cream ones on his chest, his neck, his chin. “It’s very thoughtful,” she says, moving back and forth. “But I think we’ve moved on from platonic.”

He grabs her ass and holds her down, grinding against her pubic bone so that pain and pleasure mingle. Through gritted teeth he says, “I think it’s good to know where we fit together.”

Pushing himself up, his hard middle crushes hers and before she can register what’s happening they’re up and he’s pressing her against the wall, hands still under her ass, teeth on her neck. She wraps her legs around his waist as he pumps.

“You’re right,” she says, as her climax wells in her centre. “Even after all these years, one should always know where one stands.”


End file.
